The City of a Thousand Minarets
by No Illusions
Summary: She saved my life in Cairo two years ago." What really happened in Cairo? Explores Ziva and Jenny's friendship. I know, bad summary, but it's Cairo... what else do you need to know? At least give it a try... and please review!
1. Two Weeks Later

**Author's Note: This is my first fanfic, so be patient while I get my footing... and please review!!! I could really use the feedback and advice!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, the characters, etc., and if I did, I would not know what to do with them.**

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**Chapter 1: Two Weeks Later**

When Jennifer Shepard awoke, it was to find herself alone in an empty room. There was one small, barred window high up on the wall. Judging by the amount of light entering her cell, Jenny estimated that it was around noon, maybe a little later.

Jenny ached all over and she could feel something caking the side of her face: blood. Her lovely red hair was matted with it and her clothes were covered in it. Reaching up a hand to her forehead, she felt a large gash. She tried to move from where she lay on the concrete floor, but she found that her left leg wouldn't respond. She looked at it, only to find it twisted at an unnatural angle. She winced.

She remembered being attacked, fighting back, but there were too many of them… She remembered a sickening crunch and then a searing pain in her leg… And still she had tried to fight. Then a blinding pain in her forehead, and warm blood on her skin as the cool darkness had embraced her.

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The door in one wall of her cell opened and a man stepped in. He was tall and muscular, the kind of man who would be hired to be a bodyguard… or to beat information out of prisoners, whispered a little voice in Jenny's head. After all, she had information they wanted, and they knew it.

Jenny felt a thrill of fear as she looked at the man. He had no visible weapon, but his eyes said quite clearly that he didn't need one to hurt her. And Jen lay on the floor, covered in her own blood. She was helpless, her leg broken and half-blinded by the blood from her forehead.

The man walked up to her, and, smiling, kicked her broken leg. She screamed, her vision swimming. All she could see through the pain was the man's smile of cruel satisfaction at her suffering.

Jenny was a fighter, used to never giving up, always fighting back. She could be very dangerous, and everyone who knew her knew that. And yet, at that moment in time, as she lay at the man's feet, Jen knew there was nothing she could do to stop him from hurting her. And that knowledge terrified her.

The man kicked her again, this time in the stomach. She curled up in pain. He delivered another kick, once again to her leg. As she cried out, the man crushed her fingers under his boot. Tears streamed down Jenny's cheeks.

"Who do you work with?" The man asked, voice indifferent to her suffering. An image swam, unbidden, into Jenny's mind. A young Israeli woman, long dark curls framing her face, eyes chocolate brown, laughing yet deadly. "Jen," said the woman. The image faded, leaving Jenny alone in the room with the man as he knelt down and ripped open her shirt.

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	2. In a Past Life

Chapter 2: In a Past Life

2 weeks earlier:

Jennifer Shepard was startled awake by the flight attendant's voice echoing over the loud speaker. They would be landing in 5 minutes. She sighed. The flight from DC to Cairo had been long, but not long enough for her to catch up on all the sleep she'd been missing recently, and something told her that she'd only be missing more in the coming weeks.

The NCIS director had only told her yesterday that she would be going to Cairo to meet with a Mossad officer in concerns to terrorism. The only other information she'd been given was a file on her Mossad contact, Officer Ziva David. David had quite an impressive record, despite her young age. She'd done a lot of anti-terrorist ops in the years since 9/11, had gone undercover multiple times, had been a handler for many other ops, and seemed to Jen to be one of the most lethal young women Jen had ever had a chance to work with.

As she got off the plane, Jenny was deep in her own thoughts, so much so that she almost walked right past Officer David without seeing her.

"Sorry," Jen said, noticing Officer David. "I was thinking."

"It is alright, Agent Shepard," replied David, falling into step with Jenny.

"Please, call me Jen. Everyone does."

"In that case, Jen, call me Ziva," the Israeli woman said with a smile. Ziva's chocolate brown eyes were friendly, but they held a glint of steel. They were eyes that were not afraid to kill. Her curly dark hair was mostly draped to one side of her head, framing her kind face. Her skin had a golden glow to it, and there was a fading bruise on her left arm. Ziva noticed Jen looking at it curiously.

"Lucky hit," she said. "I did not move quickly enough. The man who did it is now dead." Jenny believed it.

By this time, they were outside of the airport. Ziva led them over to a non-descript car and got in. Jenny followed, though as soon as the car started moving, she regretted it. Ziva was a reckless driver and Jen felt sick within the first minute. She was also sweating, as much from fear that they would not make it to their destination as from the Egyptian sun. Jenny grimaced as the car almost hit a passing truck. She clung to the door, her only thought that she did not want to die in Cairo, so far from home, from everyone she knew and loved, from Jethro… Jen shook her head. She had not seen Leroy Jethro Gibbs in years and yet he was still a continuous presence in her dreams and, when she let her guard down, in her thoughts. But she would not think of Jethro… At some point, Jenny realized Ziva had spoken.

"What?" asked Jen, feeling like she was going to throw up. Ziva took her eyes off the road to look at Jen. This made Jen even more terrified.

"Thinking again?" asked Ziva, glancing back at the road just in time to swerve around a large car. Horns blared as Ziva weaved in and out of traffic. "I was just saying that we are on our way to our hotel, where I will read you in." Jenny just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Oh, and we are sharing a room. I hope you do not mind. It is less suspicious for two female companions traveling together." Once again, Jenny nodded and prayed that the hotel was not too far away and that she would live to see it. Ziva drove like an east European cab driver.


	3. Green and Blue

**Disclaimer: I know, I forgot last chapter, so please don't kill me... See chapter 1 for full disclaimer but the gist of it is that I don't own NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Review, review, review!!!!!!!!!! Oh, and thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially my loyal reviewers You-won't-see-an-iguana-here and AthosianWarrior!!!! You guys are great!!!**

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**Chapter 3: Green and Blue**

Officer Ziva David had been surprised when Special Agent Shepard-Jen- had asked Ziva to use her first name, but she had also been irrationally pleased. She had liked the American from the moment she had first opened her file. Jen was someone who got the job done, someone who could be relied upon. And when Jen had walked off the plane, her green eyes somewhere else, her red hair making her appear exotic, Ziva had realized that Jen was not like some agents, not like Ziva herself, cold and distant. Jen was refreshingly alive, something that Ziva liked about her.

"You look blue," Ziva told Jen when they arrived at the hotel. Jen smiled slightly.

"I think you mean green. And I'll get over it… just not used to the heat, I suppose," she said, not wanting to offend Ziva by telling her what had really caused her to feel sick.

"Oh," said Ziva as they walked into the hotel. "I am sorry about my English. I speak many languages, but this one has always been the hardest for me."

"Well, your English is a hundred times better than my Hebrew, so don't worry. I can't complain," Jen said, smiling.

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Ziva was glad to find that the hotel room had air conditioning, something that not all hotels, even in Cairo, did. Ziva was used to the heat, but she had to admit that it did not make getting sleep easy. After Jen had freshened up from her long flight, they sat down at the table in their suite and Ziva brought Jen up to date.

"One week ago, Mossad came across some intel that suggested a possible terrorist cell had headquarters in Cairo. I was sent to investigate. I discovered that there is indeed a cell, one with some unknown connection to the United States Navy. The terrorists know too much about avoiding the navy while smuggling explosives into the US. Mossad believes that there may be a dormant member of the cell who has infiltrated the navy. That is why we called in NCIS. The cell is based here in Cairo, but we believe that they plan to carry out their plans inside of the US. We are here to take out the cell. Backup is available, but only when we are in position to complete the mission will we call them in," finished Ziva.

Jen nodded. They didn't have a lot to work with, but it was enough. Ziva had done very well, though Jenny sensed that this was not the time or place to tell her so.

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That night, Jenny and Ziva went to bed early. They were both exhausted from traveling and knew that they had many long days ahead of them. Jenny dreamed of Jethro, of Paris. She missed him, truly she did. She missed the boat in his basement, the way he always kept his door unlocked, his disgusting coffee…

At some point during the early morning, Jen woke up to the sound of sobbing. She glanced over at Ziva, to find the Israeli asleep, dry sobs shaking her body. "Tali…" Ziva mumbled. "Tali, I'm so sorry…" Jen rolled over closer to Ziva, deliberately kicking the younger woman in the process. The sobs stopped as Ziva woke suddenly, and Jenny heard the sound of a gun being cocked in her direction.

"Ziva? What's wrong?" asked Jenny groggily, pretending to have been woken by the sound of the gun.

"Nothing," said Ziva. "I thought…never mind. I just woke suddenly, that is all." Jenny smiled slightly as she heard Ziva slip the gun back under her pillow and heard soft snoring start up next to her. As she drifted back to sleep, Jen wondered just who Tali was and what had happened between her and Ziva.

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	4. Cold and Distant

**Disclaimer: See Chpater 1. Basically, I don't own NCIS. For which you should probably glad.**

**Author's Note: Hope you like it!!! Not much action in this chapter, but I'm trying to focus more on the friendship than the mission because that's the whole reason I wrote this fanfic. Action soon, though, I promise :) Review, review, review!!!!!  
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**Chapter 4: Cold and Distant**

The next morning, Jenny did not mention Tali or the dream to Ziva, though she did notice that Ziva seemed haunted by something. Often when Jen would glance over, she would see a faraway look in Ziva's chocolate brown eyes that made her appear tired and sad.

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Ziva had dreamt of Tali the night before. It was something she did often, reliving the painful memories, imagining what would have happened if only… But Ziva would not go there. Not today.

"Ziva?" Jen's voice brought her back to the present. Ziva realized there were tears flowing down her cheeks. She wiped them away, annoyed that Jen should she her crying. She never cried… But since she'd met Jen, she'd been an emotional wreck, whether she'd shown it or not. Why could she not stop thinking of Tali? Ziva thought she knew. Somehow, Jen Shepard, red-haired, green-eyed American Jen reminded Ziva of her little sister Tali. Tali had had compassion. Mossad training had not left Tali an emotionless killer, cold and distant like Ziva. Tali had been alive, just like Jen.

"Ziva?" came Jenny's voice again. Ziva tried to shake the thoughts of Tali and emotions from her mind, tried to think only of the mission, only of the terrorists… the terrorists. Terrorists had killed Tali as well…

Jenny walked up to Ziva, putting a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Ziva. Talk to me," said Jenny. It was not a request. Ziva sighed.

"I lost my sister, Tali, in a Hamas suicide bombing when she was 16. You… you remind me of her, Jen. She had compassion. It should have been me, Jen. Tali was at the store when it happened. She was running an errand for me. I sent her out, and she died. Jen, I should have been the one to go to the store…." Ziva was sobbing now. Jenny put her arms around the young Israeli.

"Ziva," she said. "Ziva, you could not have known." Jenny, sensing that Ziva was about to interrupt, raised her voice slightly as she continued. "Ziva, there could just as easily been a bomb back at your house, and by sending her out, you could have saved Tali's life. You simply never know, Ziva. An action that could end a life could often just as easily save one. What happens happens, Ziva. It is the way things are."

Ziva nodded mutely. It took a few minutes for her to get control of her emotions, but when she sighed and stood, her emotionless Mossad mask was back on.

"We should get lunch. Go wash up. I'll wait," Jenny told Ziva. Ziva walked across the room to the bathroom. When she was partway inside, she turned back.

"Jen?" Jen looked up. "Thank you," said Ziva.

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	5. I Can't Forget

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Basically, I don't own NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Yay!!! The 5th chapter!!! Hope you enjoy, and please review!!!**

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**Chapter 5: I Can't Forget**

At lunch, Jen and Ziva did not mention Tali. Jenny was almost tempted to tell Ziva about Jethro. Almost. Instead, they focused on their mission.

"I have some contacts here in Cairo who we can talk to," said Ziva. "But it may take a few days to set up meetings with them all." Jenny nodded.

"I also have a few favors that I can call in. I'll see what I can learn," replied Jen.

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Over the course of the next two weeks, Jenny and Ziva did a lot of waiting. They had had to wait for a full week to get in touch with their contacts until they could be relatively sure that they weren't under observation-at least by people, seeing as there was no way to be entirely safe from cameras and bugs-, and then they had to wait for their contacts to gather the information and get back to them. To pass the time, the two women explored the sights of Cairo. They visited the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Egyptian Antiquities Museum, the Alabaster Sphinx,... the list went on and on. By the time two weeks had passed, Jenny's feet were sore beyond belief and both Ziva and Jen were completely exhausted.

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On their 12th night in Cairo, Jen found that she was not only physically exhausted, but emotionally as well. The past two weeks had been completely different from her normal life, and certainly more stressful. The tourism had just been a mask. She and Ziva had spent the whole time glancing over their shoulders, trying to determine if they were being followed... and while they were relatively sure that they weren't being tailed on foot, they had no way of being sure that they weren't be observed through the many cameras that watched, hawk-like, the whole of Cairo.

Jenny found that the more emotionally wrecked she became, the more she thought about Jethro. Jethro, who had always been there in Paris, as they had tried to perform a mission in unknown territory... The circumstances had been similar to the ones now, with a lot of waiting. Of course, Jenny and Jethro had filled that time well...

"Who was he?" Ziva's soft voice interrupted Jenny's thoughts. Jen gave a half smile-Ziva had learned to read her well in the past two weeks.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs... we were partners, once upon a time. But then in Paris... things got out of control. We were getting too close, letting our emotions get in the way of our work. It was making things difficult... it almost cost Jethro his life... And he'd been keeping things from me. I broke it off and left. I haven't seen him since. But I can't forget him. Ziva... I loved him. I still do. I still love him..." Jenny made no attempt to control the sobs that wracked her body. Ziva moved forward and held Jen in a tight embrace, the way she had done with no one since Tali...

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	6. Blood and Pain

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. **

**Author's Note: Finally! Some action! Enjoy, and review review review!!!!**

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**Chapter 6: Blood and Pain**

The next morning, Ziva's informants made contact. The message came in the form of a phone call. Ziva answered. The only words she said were "We will be there." She hung up and turned to Jenny.

"We're meeting my contacts in an hour at Café 115." Jenny nodded.

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An hour later, a dark haired woman with her face covered by sunglasses and framed by curls walked into Café 115. With her was another woman, also in sunglasses, with a scarf covering her flaming red hair. The dark-haired woman scanned the café, made eye contact with a man, and began to make her way over to his table. The man stood and left, leaving behind a nondescript envelope that the woman in the scarf picked up and slipped into her purse. The two women ordered ice coffees and left.

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Ziva and Jenny spent most of their morning sorting through their contact's information. There was a wealth of it: sightings; description; video footage; intercepted communication between cell members and video of said members; tentative interpretations and conclusions;… Disturbingly, Ziva and Jenny noticed that a certain red-haired woman with an olive-skinned, brown-haired companion showed up rather often on the intercepted footage.

But they also noticed that a certain warehouse just outside the city limits appeared suspiciously often in the video surveillance of the known cell members. Ziva pointed at it.

"I think that's probably their current headquarters." Jenny nodded in agreement.

"But we still don't know who's calling the shots," Jen pointed out. "Until then, it's not safe to move in." Ziva agreed, but they were running out of time and they both knew it.

"We are getting close," said Ziva, more to herself than to Jen. "We will get them." The vicious smile curling Ziva's lips and the look in her chocolate brown eyes sent chills down Jenny's spine.

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An hour later, Jenny stood up from the table in their suite and stretched.

"I'm going on a coffee run, Ziva. Want anything?"

"Sure," responded the Israeli. "Anything is good, as long as it has caffeine!" Jenny smiled at her friend's enthusiasm, grabbed a room key and her purse, and left.

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Jenny was walking across the street to the nearest café when she sensed that something was wrong. She glanced around. There were four men stealthily converging on her. Jen sped up. She would get to the café and call Ziva from there. Jen was confident that they could overpower these men together. In fact, she thought, Ziva could probably overpower them on her own, but Jen certainly couldn't. She glanced around again. The men were closing in. She realized that she would not make it to the café. Her hand reached for her gun just as one of the men reached her. He grabbed her arm roughly. Jen twisted out of his grasp and kneed him between the legs. She turned to face her other three attackers as, behind her, the man's knees buckled and he hit the ground with a groan. She pulled out her gun, but one of the men kicked it from her hand. All four of her attackers had at least one weapon (Jenny was sure that there were a few concealed under jackets or in boots), and Jen was defenseless.

By then, the street around Jenny and her attackers had cleared. A potential gunfight was one thing the good people of Cairo did _not_ want to get in the middle of. Someone must have called the police because Jen could hear sirens in the distance. Her attackers had heard them too, and they came at Jen with a renewed urgency. Jenny found herself on the pavement before she knew what had happened. The man behind her must have recovered from his… _encounter_ with her knee. The four men were closing in now. One grabbed her arm, attempting to haul her up from the ground. Jen kicked out viciously, felt her foot collide with something soft, and heard a cry of pain. Then, suddenly, there was a sickening crunch and, after what seemed like an eternity, she felt a searing pain in her leg. She screamed. Two of the men were pulling her off of the ground. She struggled desperately, trying to ignore the all-consuming pain in her leg. Jen heard one of the men cry out as her fist collided with his jaw. Then there was a blinding pain in her forehead. She could feel warm blood dripping down her face, coating everything… She was made of blood, blood and pain. There was nothing in the world but blood and an unidentifiable agony somewhere in the vicinity of her leg… The red obscuring her vision slowly turned to black and Jenny gratefully let the cool darkness embrace her.

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	7. I Cannot

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. For the 7th time. **

**Author's Note: Sorry... no Jenny in this chapter... But the next chapter will be up soon and everyone will get their Jenny-fix :)**

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**Chapter 7: I Cannot**

Ziva noticed the sirens but thought nothing of them. Sirens were not unusual in Cairo. But then Ziva heard the scream. She stood and rushed over to the window. It had sounded like… but it could not have been…

One glance down at the street was enough to confirm Ziva's worst fears. Jen, lying surrounded by four men, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle beneath her. Jen was still fighting, but for how long? Ziva asked herself as she sprinted from the room, down the stairs, and out the door into the hotel lobby. She took half a second to check that her gun was ready--after all, it would do neither she nor Jen any good if Ziva made a stupid mistake like not checking her weapon…--before she burst through the doors and out onto the street. But Ziva was too late. A black car was roaring away from the scene of the fight, the doors not even all the way closed yet. As the back door slammed shut, Ziva glimpsed a flash of red: a mixture of hair and blood.

Moments later, the police arrived. Ziva was furious. Furious at herself for not saving Jen, furious at the police for being too late, at the bystanders for being bystanders…

Ziva whipped out her cell phone and dialed, flashing her Mossad badge at the policemen who were securing the scene.

"You and the NCIS agent are ready?" asked the voice on the other end of the line.

"No," Ziva snapped. "But we need to move now. They have taken Agent Shepard and I believe I know where they are bringing her."

"How do you know that she is still alive?" asked the voice. Ziva closed her eyes briefly.

"They will not kill her," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "At least, not yet. That is why we must move quickly. They will be trying to determine how much we know. As long as Je--Agent Shepard does not tell them anything, they will keep her alive."

"And how do you know that she will not give in to them? People like them can be…persuasive." Ziva grimaced. Yes, she knew just how persuasive terrorists could be.

"She will not break," said Ziva, praying that this was true.

"And what if they lose patience and kill her anyway?"

"That is why we must hurry," replied Ziva, voice tight.

"Your father will not be pleased if we let the leader escape." Ziva scowled. Her father, the director of Mossad, would _live_. Jen would not if they waited much longer, a fact of which Ziva was painfully aware.

"We move in," Ziva growled, voice low and dangerous. "We rescue Agent Shepard, take down the cell members with her, and we work from there. We do _not _wait." There was a long silence from the other end of the line. Then:

"We need four hours." Ziva slammed the phone shut in anger. _Four _hours… they asked for _four _hours, with Jen enduring god-knows-what…

"I cannot lose them both," Ziva whispered, thinking of the other person she had lost to terrorists. "I cannot!" she said louder, earning a curious look from one of the police officers still processing the scene. Ziva supposed that she should go talk to them, explain what she knew of what had happened here… "I cannot," she said one more time, because with each time she said the words, her confidence and resolve grew stronger. She _would not_ loose Jen.

Ziva had called in their back-up. Now she just had to wait.

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	8. Blind Trust

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. Humph.  
**

**Author's Note: So, the beginning of this chapter is the same as chapter 1, but I would appreciate it if you would reread it. It's not long, and it sets the tone. The new section relies on chapter 1 and that's the reason that I chose to republish it, even if its addition does make this the longest chapter yet. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 8: Blind Trust**

When Jennifer Shepard awoke, it was to find herself alone in an empty room. There was one small, barred window high up on the wall. Judging by the amount of light entering her cell, Jenny estimated that it was around noon, maybe a little later.

Jenny ached all over and she could feel something caking the side of her face: blood. Her lovely red hair was matted with it and her clothes were covered in it. Reaching up a hand to her forehead, she felt a large gash. She tried to move from where she lay on the concrete floor, but she found that her left leg wouldn't respond. She looked at it, only to find it twisted at an unnatural angle. She winced.

She remembered being attacked, fighting back, but there were too many of them… She remembered a sickening crunch and then a searing pain in her leg… And still she had tried to fight. Then a blinding pain in her forehead, and warm blood on her skin as the cool darkness had embraced her.

The door in one wall of her cell opened and a man stepped in. He was tall and muscular, the kind of man who would be hired to be a bodyguard… or to beat information out of prisoners, whispered a little voice in Jenny's head. After all, she had information they wanted, and they knew it.

Jenny felt a thrill of fear as she looked at the man. He had no visible weapon, but his eyes said quite clearly that he didn't need one to hurt her. And Jen lay on the floor, covered in her own blood. She was helpless, her leg broken and half-blinded by the blood from her forehead.

The man walked up to her, and, smiling, kicked her broken leg. She gasped, her vision swimming. All she could see through the pain was the man's smile of cruel satisfaction at her suffering.

Jenny was a fighter, used to never giving up, always fighting back. She could be very dangerous, and everyone who knew her knew that. And yet, at that moment in time, as she lay at the man's feet, Jen knew there was nothing she could do to stop him from hurting her. And that knowledge terrified her.

The man kicked her again, this time in the stomach. She curled up in pain. He delivered another kick, once again to her leg. As she gasped, trying not to cry out, the man crushed her fingers under his boot. Tears streamed down Jenny's cheeks.

"Who do you work with?" The man asked, voice indifferent to her suffering. An image swam, unbidden, into Jenny's mind. A young Israeli woman, long dark curls framing her face, eyes chocolate brown, laughing yet deadly. "Jen," said the woman. The image faded, leaving Jenny alone in the room with the man as he knelt down and ripped open her shirt.

Jenny had lost consciousness before the man had left, but when she awoke, it was to find herself once again alone. She had not told him anything, even has he had done what he wanted with her. With everything he did to her Jen's disgust for him grew, to the point where, as Jen lay by herself in her cell, she decided that she would not tell him anything, even if what he asked had nothing to do with Ziva or the mission... Jenny would tell him nothing, just for the pleasure of defying this man whom she loathed.

As Jen regained awareness, she glanced once again at the window. She estimated that it had been almost two hours since her coffee run had ended in disaster. It had been a stupid mistake that had led to this, really, but it had been a deadly one. Maybe if Jen had pulled her weapon sooner, had walked faster, fought harder. She was pretty sure that Ziva had heard the struggle and would have been on her way, if only Jenny could have held out a little longer... And now Jen was stuck waiting, waiting for her tormentor to return, for Ziva to rescue her... and Jen _hated _needing to be rescued. She hated feeling helpless, hated relying on others. But what choice did she have now?

To fill the seemingly endless time, Jenny thought of Jethro, of Paris... but those types of thoughts brought back more recent memories, memories of this room and the man and what he had done to her as she had receded into herself, taken shelter in her mind and in the security of her loathing, but not told him anything... So Jen redirected her thoughts, thinking instead of Ziva. Ziva, her friend, someone she could trust completely and utterly. Ziva would find her, of that Jenny was certain. Ziva would threaten, torture, murder as many people as necessary to get to Jen... Jen just hoped that it didn't quite come to that. After all, her friend was, for all intents and purposes, an assassin, trained to do anything to get the job done, trained to be cold and distant... emotionless. But that was one part of Ziva's training that had not stuck, despite Ziva's fears. Jenny knew that it was the one thing that Ziva most hated about herself: the idea that she was emotionless, unable to feel... It was an idea that Ziva believed, completely and utterly. And Jen decided that once Ziva found her, Jen would make her see that it was not true, that Ziva was not as cold and distant as she feared.

The door to the cell creaked open, and Jenny looked up, fear and defiance in her eyes. Despite her confidence that Ziva would find her and her disgust at herself for needing to be found, Jen was terrified. Deep down, Jen knew that she would go to her grave and beyond before she betrayed Ziva or their knowledge to these men, but despite that, Jen was not ready to die. Not here, like this.

This time, it was a different man, and he had a knife. He was also smoking a cigarette. Jenny squirmed away from him in what she knew was a pathetic attempt to escape. She was trapped, and she felt horribly exposed with her clothes lying in tatters around her bruised and beaten body. The man grabbed her arm, twisting it viciously so as to expose the tender flesh on the inside of her forearm. He very deliberately took his cigarette from his mouth and, watching her face intently, proceeded to stub out his cigarette on her exposed skin. Jenny winced, struggling desperately to free herself from his grasp, to dislodge the burning end of the cigarette from her arm, trying not to cry out. She did not want to give him that pleasure. When the man finally released her arm, Jen saw an angry red burn that was already beginning to blister. She glared up at her torturer, waiting. The man smiled.

"Now shall we begin?" he asked pleasantly.

"Who do you work for?" Jenny asked, her voice soft and radiating terror that was not as much of an act as she would have liked, trying to take advantage of her position. Most people did not mind bragging to a helpless prisoner, and the information could be invaluable later on. For a moment, Jen thought that the man would just ignore her words, but he seemed to be rather amused by the question that Jenny had presented him with. "What is your boss planning?" asked Jen again, hoping to prompt an answer through repetition.

"My boss?" asked the man, a smile playing at his lips but not reaching his eyes. His eyes were cold, grey, and dangerous. "I have no boss." Jenny tried to hide her shock. This man was the ringleader, the man she and Ziva had been looking for! He was here and that meant that he might still be here when Ziva arrived. They still had a shot at completing their mission. A long shot, yes, but a shot all the same.

"What are you planning?" asked Jenny again, trying to keep the man talking. She knew how much men like this loved to brag.

"An attack," he said, playing with the knife, which was now hovering dangerously closed to Jen's exposed neck. Jenny kept her eyes locked on the sharp weapon. The man saw this and smiled, allowing the knife to drift closer still to her neck, to brush softly down her skin, leaving a trail of blood behind it. "The likes of which your country has never seen before, worse even than 9/11." Jen tried to control her expression, to hide her fear and pain, but her eyes widened and she could not stop the sharp intake of breath that escaped from between her lips. The knife had reached her collar bone and the man was slowly increasing the pressure, pressing the knife harder into her skin. Pain was written clearly on Jenny's face and she twisted, trying to keep both man and knife in her line of sight. Vaguely, she wondered why it was so important to her to see the weapon that could very well lead to her death. Why did she need to watch as it cut into her skin?

"I will not kill you yet," said the man, seeing the fear in Jen's wide green eyes. "But by the time this is over, you will wish I had. You have information I want, and I advise you to give it to me." Jenny glared at him mutely, her lips closed in a tight scowl of defiance. The man chuckled. "Yes," he said, a smile of anticipation playing at his lips. "I was told that you would not be easy to break. I will enjoy this," he said quietly, voice low and calm. Jenny kept her eyes on the knife, trying desperately not to show her fear, trying to only show defiance.

The knife was now hovering by Jen's ear. She tried to twist away from it and keep it in view at the same time, but the man's rough hand stopped her as it grabbed her hair, jerking her head back so that she was looking him in the eyes. Jenny gasped in pain. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Jen's eyes widened in fear as she tried to lean back, tried to distance herself from the man. He whispered softly into her ear, "Tell me who your little friend is. And, more to the point, how much you know about my plans." When Jenny made no reply, he released her hair and sent his fist crashing into her face. The sheer ferocity of his sudden attack left Jen too stunned to react. He delivered another blow, this time a painful kick to her ribcage. Jen felt all the air suddenly leave her lungs and gasped, trying to get enough oxygen into her system. The man reached down again, his hand closing around her neck and pulling her partially off the hard floor. Her fingers clawed at his. She needed air. As her vision started to go black, she could hear his voice quite clearly: "What do you know? Tell me and this will be over. You can make it all stop..." He released Jen's neck just before the lack of oxygen would have rendered her unconscious. Jenny just glared at him, thinking of how bruised her neck would be when this was all over, if that time ever came... No. She could not think that way. Ziva would come for her. Ziva would find her...

The man grabbed her wrist, twisting it. Her body tried to follow, but it simply couldn't. She gasped, the pain bringing tears to her wide eyes. He smiled and twisted her wrist even more. Jenny groaned in pain, biting back a scream, trying desperately to make the man release her. If this continued, something would have to give. And then it did. Jen's wrist broke with a sickening crack and the man dropped her arm, which hit the floor limply, causing Jenny to whimper. Jen slumped, sobs shaking her body. The pain was overwhelming.

Jenny wondered why this was all necessary. She was _making _them hurt her. She could just say the word and all this would stop. She would be dead, yes, but what did that matter now? There would be no pain in death. Jen opened her mouth to speak.

But then her eyes met the man's. His eyes showed his cruel pleasure as he loomed over her, his cold satisfaction that she had broken. Jen closed her mouth again and glared at him, her lips set in a defiant line. She saw the fury build, saw his look as victory was snatched from before him, and once again she was tempted to end it all.

Jenny knew that Jethro would forgive her for giving in. Sure, at first he would storm around, mad at her for making such a stupid probie mistake and getting caught, mad at her for letting them get to her. But Jethro would forgive her eventually, would stop hiding his worry for her behind anger. And then he would say something funny, coax a smile from her... Jenny closed her eyes and remembered his face. She barely felt the flurry of kicks and punches colliding with her body, only distantly heard the sharp snap of one of her fingers breaking. Above her, the man growled in fury as his prisoner did not react to his beatings. He only tried harder.

And then, thought Jen, there was Ziva. Ziva would forgive her for giving in to the torture as well, but Ziva would not respect her for it. No, Ziva knew that Jen was stronger than that. Ziva, the cold Mossad assassin; the mourning and guilt-ridden sister; the understanding and caring friend... Jen would not betray Ziva. Jen imagined Ziva's face as one of Jen's ribs gave way under the pressure of a kick to her side. Jenny trusted Ziva to save her. It was the blind trust of someone who was truly helpless.

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**Review, review, review!!!! I really want to know what you all think of it!! This chapter was kind of different, as I was trying to both focus on Jenny's situation and on her friendship with Ziva even though Ziva wasn't really there. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but I want to know what everyone thinks!!**


	9. Not So Emotionless

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Sorry it took me longer than usual to write this chapter. I had to decide where this was going and to do that I had to write some of the future chapters as well and decide which storyline I liked best. I'm starting school tomorrow (my first year of high school...), but I'll try and update as often as I can. Please review!!!!  
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**Chapter 9: Not So Emotionless**

By the time the back-up met Ziva a few blocks from the warehouse four hours later, Ziva was quite simply ready to kill someone. She was tired of waiting, tired of inaction. Jenny was so close... yet Ziva could not get to her. Not without help. The back-up consisted of five men, some of the best. With Jenny, they would have been seven strong, plenty to take out all of the terrorists clustered in even the largest of hideaways—terrorists did not tend to stay together in large groups.

Ziva tensely outlined the plan to her companions. It was quite simple: the back-up would take out the cell members who were present and Ziva would get Jen. And, if Ziva was lucky, there would also be a few terrorists left for her to deal with after she rescued Jenny.

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Ziva fiddled with her picklocks, allowing herself a small smile as the warehouse door clicked open. She checked her weapons, than glanced around to make sure that the five others with her were also ready. _Three... two... one,_ her fingers counted down silently. Ziva pushed the door open, gun ready, and allowed her companions to file past her into the empty hallway. Ziva walked quickly towards the end of the hall. Her back-up would take care of any danger and Jenny's captors would be holding her as far from the exit as possible. As she neared the end of the hall, Ziva started checking the rooms. The second to last door was locked. Ziva got to work once again with her picklocks and within seconds, the door swung open.

The cell was stuffy, the Egyptian heat penetrating the concrete walls of the warehouse. A single window provided the only light in the whole room. In the corner lay a figure. Ziva took a step closer, knowing deep down who that figure was. But she still winced when she saw the dirty, matted red hair. And with that wince, Ziva realized how much she cared about Jenny. Ziva had not realized that she was still capable of caring this way, not since Tali had died. She had thought that her Mossad training had wiped that ability from her; Ziva had thrown herself into training harder than ever after her sister's death, trying to rid herself of the pain. But later Ziva had regretted that training, regretted not feeling the emotions that had once made her so human. But since Ziva had met Jenny, all those emotions had come flooding back...

Ziva knelt beside Jen, preparing to check for a pulse. But there was no need. As soon as Ziva's fingers touched Jen's bruised neck, the green eyes snapped open. The fear in them was unmistakable, but Ziva was glad to see Jenny's familiar defiance shining through in the way her mouth was set, in the way she met Ziva's gaze.

Ziva watched recognition dawn on Jenny's face, and smiled at Jenny.

"Jen? We need to get you out of here. Can you walk?" she asked. Jen started to shake her head, winced, and instead replied:

"Ziva. You're here," she paused, closing her eyes briefly against the pain of talking—her bruised neck did not make that particular activity very easy. "No, I can't. Left leg broken, a rib or two, right wrist, a few fingers..." Ziva hushed her.

"It does not matter, Jen. I can carry you." Jen nodded, and Ziva bent to lift her up. Ziva did not notice the tears falling freely down her cheeks.

* * *

Through her weary eyes, Jen could see Ziva bend over her, her face beyond concerned. Ziva's face was terrified. Jen opened her mouth to tell Ziva the one thing that Jenny had decided Ziva _must _know-that she _did _have feelings, that Ziva was not as cold and distant as she feared, that the thing that Ziva most hated about herself was not actually true. But looking at Ziva's face, which was now streaked with tears as she took in Jen's broken state, Jenny realized that Ziva no longer needed to be told this. Ziva had finally realized that she was not so emotionless after all.

* * *

There was a sound behind Ziva. She quickly put Jen down and turned around, gun at the ready. By the doorway stood a man, armed with a gun that was leveled at them. Ziva heard Jen's sharp intake of breath behind her and guessed that this man—if you could even call him that—had been one of Jenny's tormentors.

"He's the leader, the one calling the shots, the one we were looking for," whispered Jen. Ziva felt Jen's hand slip into her boot, pulling out the spare gun that Jen knew Ziva always kept there.

"So you are the one who my prisoner was protecting so loyally," said the man, eyeing Ziva curiously. "You know that your friend there is the only prisoner who I've failed to break? It's quite an honor, actually. Though I'm sure that, with a couple more hours, I could have made her tell me anything I asked. Of course, now it looks like I'll get that chance, along with the chance to try and break _you_," he said, smiling at Ziva. "Just for fun, of course. I'll get everything I need from your red haired friend there," he said, gesturing at Jen and examining her bruised appearance coldly.

"My men will not let that happen," said Ziva bravely, distracting the man from his contemplation of Jenny. "Even now, they are taking over this building."

"Ah," the man responded, looking at Ziva. "Your men. Naturally. They are dead," he said dismissively. "We were, of course, waiting for you. Why do you think we took your friend to this warehouse, the one that shows up so often on your video surveillance?" Ziva mentally cursed herself. She should have seen this coming, should have realized it was all too easy... Five men had paid for Ziva's stupid mistake with their lives, and it was looking quite likely that Ziva and Jenny would as well.

Ziva could see men in the hallway outside of the cell, men she didn't recognize. She and Jen could try and fight their way out, but their chances were virtually nonexistent, not with Ziva carrying Jenny. They would just get hurt.

"Cuff the Israeli. We wouldn't want them getting any ideas now that there are two of them. And check them carefully for weapons. _Both _of them," ordered the man who was the leader, the man who had tortured Jenny. Ziva stiffened as three men approached her and Jen, but she did not fight them as they roughly yanked her arms behind her, cuffing them with standard handcuffs. There were simply too many of them. If Ziva had been alone, she would have tried to fight her way out, but she couldn't risk Jenny's life. They would have to bide their time.

"Get on your knees," one of the men told Ziva. Ziva obeyed, if slowly. The man kicked her in the back, and without her arms to catch her, Ziva slammed face-first into the floor. She gasped as the air was knocked out of her. The men bound her ankles—with rope, Ziva noticed. When the men were done, they left the room, but not before one of them kicked Ziva hard in the head. The world went black.

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**Review, review, review!!!!!**


	10. Two Bads

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Two chapters in one day!!! I suppose I'm trying to make up for not writing for so long and the fact that I don't know when I'll next publish... But now you have to review because I was nice and gave you two chapters!!! Enjoy!  
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**Chapter 10: Two Bads**

The world slowly came into focus as Ziva regained consciousness. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Then the memories came flooding back: Jen... the terrorists... the trap... Ziva twisted so she was lying on her back and sat up. It was something like doing a sit-up, what with her ankles and wrists tied. Ziva scooted over to a wall and leaned her back against it, relishing in the feel of the cool concrete in this hot cell. She then looked around her. The first thing she saw was Jen, laying on the floor, bruised and bloody yet looking at Ziva with a smile on her face.

"I knew you'd come, Ziva," she said.

"I did not quite imagine it like this. I am so sorry, Jen. I came here to rescue you and I got five good men killed and now we are both here and it is my fault. I should have known better. I should not have led my men into a trap and been caught."

"And I shouldn't have let them capture me, Ziva. We _both_ made stupid mistakes."

"Yes, well, two bads do not make a good," said Ziva.

"It's 'two wrongs don't make a right,' Ziva," Jen said, her smile tired and sad. Ziva looked at her friend. Her face was swollen and there were ugly gashes down her neck. It was clear that she had multiple broken bones, many of which looked like they had been broken in more than one place. She was covered in bruises and her clothes were ripped.

Ziva leaned her head back, eyes closed, trying to stop the tears. Right now she had to be strong, for both Jen and herself.

"Ziva? Thank you," said Jenny quietly. Ziva laughed, the sound soft and bitter.

"For what?" she asked. "All I did was got myself caught and five men killed."

"And you came."

"Of course I came," responded Ziva, surprised. "That is what friends and partners do."

"Exactly," said Jen softly. "And that's why I'm grateful. You're my friend and you came for me."

"Jen? Remind me: when we get out of this, the first thing I am going to do is learn how to get out of handcuffs. They are quite annoying after a while," said Ziva, scowling. Jenny smiled tiredly.

* * *

"Tell me about your 'Jethro Gibbs,'" requested Ziva a little later. Jen smiled.

"I think you'd like him, Ziva. He's an ex-marine, though he'd tell you that there's no such thing. He was a marine sniper. The last time I saw him, he was building a boat in his basement. How he'll get it out of there is beyond me, but I'm sure he'll think of something. He's very resourceful, very determined. It's hard to earn his trust, but once you've earned it, no matter what happens, a shred of that trust will always remain." Jen found herself smiling, talking about Jethro. Ziva listened, a slight smile playing at her lips as well as she watched Jen's eyes grow distant. "He's very affectionate, in his own way. He loves to slap people in the back of the head. He's even done it to me a few times. But he really only does it to those he cares for. And he has incredible timing. It's almost as though he's got a sixth sense or something. He has no respect for his superiors—especially when they're women." Ziva chuckled.

"I know the type. My brother Ari is just like that." Jen smiled.

* * *

Neither Jenny nor Ziva were completely sure how much later it was when the door to their cell opened. Ziva raised her head to look at the person standing in the doorway, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. The man at the door was the leader, the same one who had interrogated Jenny. It was relatively odd for the boss to do the dirty work of interrogating prisoners, but this man didn't look like the type to sit around on the sidelines and watch. The man walked over to where Ziva was sitting by the wall.

"Your red haired friend can wait," he said, smiling. "I want to try you first." Ziva glared at him. She would have to be strong. By resisting, she would focus all of his attention on her and he might forget about Jenny for a time. Ziva focused her gaze on the far wall. "Now tell me all you know about my organization," said the man, but Ziva knew that the question was just a formality. This man didn't need answers from her. Ziva chuckled.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" she asked, provoking him. "Just ask the question and I give you everything, spill the rice..."

"Beans," Ziva heard Jenny mutter.

"Spill the beans... why beans? Why can people not spill rice?" Ziva's words were stopped as the man growled and his boot collided with her stomach. Ziva doubled over, groaning. Her head was yanked back up by her hair and a fist collided with her nose. There was a sickening crack and blood poured down her face. The man grabbed Ziva's shoulders and shook them, forcing Ziva's head to collide painfully with the concrete behind her several times. Ziva through her head forward and her forehead collided with the man's, making stars appear in her vision. The man reeled backward, his hand flying to his forehead. He growled again and grabbed on of Ziva's fingers, snapping it. She cried out.

"Not so tough now, are we?" asked the man, smiling coldly. "Are you ready to spill the...rice?"

"I do not plan to spill anything anytime soon," said Ziva. "Except, of course, your blood." The man just smiled. He had pulled a knife from inside his pocket and was playing with it. It was long, wickedly curved. Then his hand shot out, grabbing Ziva's neck and forcing her head back. Ziva inhaled sharply, wincing as the man's grip tightened. He lowered the blade toward her eye.

"I can see that I will have to use some more serious techniques with you. Let this be a lesson: you do not provoke me. If you do, you will regret it. Greatly." Ziva tried to pull away, her eyes on the knife that was slowly being lowered towards her eye.

"Wait!" she heard Jenny cry out.

* * *

"Ah," said the man, turning towards Jenny. "I was waiting for you to stop me. And it is a good thing that you did. Otherwise, your friend here would be in quite a lot of pain right now." Jenny glared at the man, temper flaring. No matter how much he terrified her, she would not let him hurt Ziva. Ziva was only here because Jen had needed rescuing. Jen knew that by speaking up, she had made her and Ziva both vulnerable—the man now knew that to get to one of them, he had to hurt the other. But Jen had had no choice. She would _not _watch Ziva be tortured. The man slowly walked over to where Jen lay, towering over her. Jenny glared up at him, her jaw set, not allowing her fear to show through. Being back with Ziva had given Jen new strength and resolve. She was ready for whatever came. Or so she hoped.

"So maybe _you_ would like to tell me what you know?" asked the man, looking down at Jen.

"We cannot tell you. You should know that," said Ziva.

"I did not ask you!" snapped the man, turning to watch Ziva's face as he kicked Jenny in the ribs. Jen gasped, desperately trying to get air to her lungs. Ziva stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the wall, her face a mask. The man kicked Jen a second and a third time. Each time Jen gasped for air. Ziva drew in a sharp breath but her eyes remained fixed on a speck on the far wall. The man just smiled, kicked Jen once more for good measure, this time on her broken leg, and walked towards the door. He opened it, revealing two armed guards. "Move the Israeli. I want them separated." Ziva and Jen met each other's gaze for only a moment before Ziva was pulled up and dragged away. There was fear in both of their eyes.

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	11. Endurance

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Wow! Another chapter already! I feel very accomplished! And thanks for the reviews!!! They really encourage fast writing... I hope you enjoy!!!  
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**Chapter 11: Endurance**

The only reason Ziva could think of for being separated from Jen—after the terrorist had found out their willingness to risk themselves for each other—was as a tool of torture. Ziva had no way of knowing what was happening to Jenny and vice versa.

Ziva's new cell was almost identical to Jen's, but it was slightly larger and was better equipped than the other one. There was a fireplace, presumably for heating branding irons, some chains on the wall (to which Ziva was now attached), and there were a few chairs in one corner. Ziva's hands were cuffed together and pulled up above her head, forcing her to stand.

Just then, the door to Ziva's cell opened, distracting her from her contemplation of her bindings. The lead terrorist entered, carrying a small branding iron in his hands. He walked over to the fireplace and lit a small blaze, sticking the iron into it. The man watched Ziva as she watched the branding iron begin to glow orange, then red. After what seemed like an eternity, the man took the metal rod from the fire and walked slowly over to Ziva with it.

"I know that you cannot tell me anything," he said calmly, "but I though I'd give you another chance. I thought you might reconsider." Ziva fixed her eyes straight ahead, but the urge to look at the red-hot metal mere inches from her skin was almost unbearable.

Ziva was painfully aware of how exposed and helpless she was right now. Her arms were chained above her, exposing her torso, and her ankles were still tied. Ziva could feel a thin line of sweat creeping its way down her spine.

"Very well," said the man, his voice conveying his enjoyment of this little activity. "If that is what you want..." Ziva stared straight ahead, her face unreadable, her wide eyes the only sign of her fear. The man raised the branding iron so that it was just inside Ziva's current line of sight. She could not help it; her eyes flickered to the metal, but she swiftly brought them back to the wall. The man chuckled. "That's what I thought..." he said quietly, more to himself than to Ziva. The man let the iron drift slowly towards Ziva's exposed side. Ziva could not keep control anymore. She allowed herself to watch the iron out of the corner of her eye as it neared her skin. She held her breath, waiting for the pain. And then it came. Ziva thrashed, a scream escaping her lips. The hot metal burned into her exposed side as Ziva fought to break the chains holding her arms up, fought to escape, anything to stop the pain...

"Having fun?" asked the man, removing iron from skin. Ziva's breath came in half gasps, half sobs. "Do you have anything to tell me?" When Ziva did not respond, he pushed the iron into her skin once again. Ziva squirmed and fought, trying to get away. The pain was overwhelming. This must have been how Tali had felt when she died, burned alive by that terrorist bomb. Ziva froze. Her little sister had been killed by terrorists, men just like this one.

When the man removed the iron again from Ziva's skin, tears of pain were falling down her face. The man chuckled. Then, in a fir of fury and defiance, Ziva spat in his face. He growled, forcing the iron once again into her skin, pushing it so hard that it forced Ziva, writhing, into the wall to which she was chained. Ziva closed her eyes against the pain, though it did not really help.

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Jenny looked up as her cell door opened. The man entered, carrying an iron rod. It looked like a branding iron, though there was nowhere to heat it in here. It still glowed faintly orange. The man saw Jen looking at it and smiled slightly.

"No, I will not use it on you. It's already had plenty of use today. Your Israeli friend is very stubborn." Jen's green eyes widened and she drew in a sharp breath. Ziva...

The man chuckled. Jenny glared at him. She hated his laugh, his smile...

"Do you expect me to be any less stubborn than her?" asked Jen defiantly.

"Well, no," said the man. "But that's what makes it fun. You _will _tell me everything I want to know. Eventually." The man walked over to Jenny and grabbed her long red hair, pulling her up. Jen gasped, tears of pain pricking her eyes. She could not do this much longer. She could not survive this. She was exhausted and it never ended... the pain never stopped... The man laughed lightly at her telling expression. "You see?" he asked. "You will not last much longer. And nor will your friend, judging by the last time I saw her. She took less time to break than I would have expected, but then again, I used force... maybe slightly more than was necessary." Jenny winced. She tried not to think about what Ziva was going through because of her. Jen looked up at the man, waiting. "No," he said. "I will not do anything right now. I merely wanted you to realize what it was that your friend is enduring... and to protect what? If you were to just tell me, I wouldn't have to hurt her anymore. I wouldn't have to hurt you. You have the power to end this." Jen just stared at him, focusing all of her will on not opening up her mouth, not giving him what he wanted. What the man said made sense, yet something was not right... there was a reason she should not tell him... Jen just had to remember it... The world was spinning. Jen's last thought before exhaustion and pain overtook her was that the world had better stop moving or she would be sick. The man looked down coldly at his prisoner's limp form and dropped the hair he was still holding in disgust. Jenny hit the ground with a dull thud.

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**Review, review, review!!!**


	12. Determined

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS**

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry that this took me so long to post!!! I've started school, plus I went away for a few days just now. My life has been very hectic. But I have the whole story finished now--it's all written and typed, so it shouldn't take me long to post. There will be two more chapters after this one. And remember: the faster you review, the faster I post!!!!  
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**Chapter 12: Determined**

For what seemed like eternity after the man left, Ziva drifted in and out of consciousness. Her body was covered in burns and the pain was simply too much for her exhausted mind to handle. She was also pretty sure that she had a concussion and distantly she realized that she should not be allowing herself to sleep—if you could even call her state of unconsciousness sleep. Not that it really mattered. She couldn't survive much more of this. She really couldn't. It would be so much easier just to close her eyes and never open them, to let the darkness take her once and for all. But, no matter how much Ziva wished that it would all just end, it didn't happen. Every time Ziva closed her eyes, the pain would eventually come back. Slowly at first, starting as a dull ache, but then it would turn into a burning, like the man was still there with his branding iron. The burning was forever present except for when Ziva was unconscious. Ziva knew she could not endure much more of it. Sooner or later, she would break. Ziva knew this. But what did it matter? She could—she _should_—just give in, give the man what he wanted and then he would not hurt her anymore. He would simply kill her. This, she supposed, would be a relief.

But Jenny... Jenny had survived worse than this. She had not given in, had not given up hope. Ziva shook her head in self-disgust. She could not give up. She had to get to Jen.

Ziva examined bindings carefully. Her wrists were being held by two interlocking leather cuffs that were attached to the chains that were currently holding her arms above her head. Ziva squirmed and found that the leather cuffs were slightly too large. She had not noticed it before because it was almost imperceptible. They also must have given way a bit when she had been fighting back. Ziva squeezed her wrist through, wincing as her broken finger came in contact with the leather. Her right hand slipped from its cuff. She rotated her shoulder a bit, wincing, before getting to work on the other cuff. That one was a bit easier with the other hand to help.

Once she was free, Ziva walked silently over to the door, putting her ear against it. She could hear the sound of one person breathing. She smiled. She was going to enjoy this. She quietly hunted around her cell until she found what she was looking for: a wire with which to pick the lock. A minute later, the door swung open. The guard spun to face Ziva, but before he could even register what was going on, his world went black. Ziva did not need to check his pulse—she knew that she had killed the man. She took his gun and slipped out into the hallway, seeing only the man guarding Jen's cell, but he was looking the other way. She came up behind him and killed him as silently as she had done with the last man, taking his gun as well. She then picked the lock with the wire and swung the door open. For the second time in as many days, she winced at the condition of the cell's occupant. Jen had acquired many more bruises, a few more broken fingers, and a lot more blood coated her than when Ziva had seen her last.

Jen looked up as Ziva entered. She barely recognized her friend. Ziva looked worse for wear, with burns everywhere and a bruise almost as bad as Jen's developing on her neck. Her nose was broken and she was covered in blood. And yet the same cold determination was still present in her eyes and in the way she held herself, although she was limping slightly.

"Come on," said Ziva. "We need to get you out of here." She handed Jen a gun and picked her up, wincing as Jen's body brushed her many burns. Jenny stifled a sob as her broken leg was lifted from the floor.

"I am sorry, Jen," said Ziva, knowing that their escape would put Jenny in a lot of pain. But it was their only option. She was not leaving without Jen. Jen looked up at Ziva's determined eyes and took a deep breath. She knew her next suggestion would not go over well.

"Ziva? Maybe this is not such a good idea. You should get out. You are in no condition to carry me. You can get more back-up and come back for me." Ziva stared straight ahead and did not respond immediately. When she did, her voice was cold and determined.

"I am counting on you to shoot anyone who gets in our way. I cannot shoot _and_ carry you." Jen sighed; she knew that she was fighting a loosing battle.

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For the moment, the hallway was deserted. Ziva reasoned that the terrorists were probably in some of the rooms closest to the doors. Both women knew that they were going to have to take down the terrorist cell before they could leave the building. Otherwise, the terrorists would scatter and any opportunity to complete their mission would be lost. There was no middle ground, no simple escape. It was kill or be killed.

Ziva tried to banish all doubts from her mind. These terrorists had already taken out five of Mossad's best... But they had been waiting for them, Ziva reminded herself. They would not be expecting Ziva and Jenny to escape. After all, Jen had a broken leg and couldn't walk, and Ziva... Ziva was a good actress, but her screams of pain under the branding iron had not been as faked as she would have liked. Yet they had done the trick. The terrorists thought her broken. They would not expect her to escape. All these thoughts were running through Ziva's mind as she crept silently down the long hall, holding Jenny. Sweat dripped into her eyes but she could not spare a hand to wipe it away—Jen was not very heavy, especially after all Jen had been through recently, but Ziva could not risk dropping her. They finally reached a door through which voices could be heard and Ziva stopped walking. The door was closed, but Ziva did not think it would be locked.

"Jen," Ziva whispered. "Stay out here and take down anyone who comes out. You lean against the wall." Ziva put Jen down, who winced as she positioned herself into a standing position on one leg, leaning heavily against the wall. Ziva looked her friend over. Jenny held the gun Ziva had given her tightly in her left hand—her right wrist was useless. Sweat was running down Jen's forehead and she was pale from exhaustion and blood loss. She would not last long, despite the hard determination in her green eyes. They had to do this now.

Ziva pushed the door open. The shooting started almost immediately.

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	13. The Triumphant City

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. Unsurprisingly. **

**Author's Note: So, I'm not totally sure how I feel about this chapter. But when I read through it to edit it, there was nothing I could think of that would make it better. So it will have to do. This is the second last chapter--possibly. I might divide the last chapter in half--I don't really like it together. I combined the two chapters because they were so short but now I'm thinking that I might just publish them at the same time but as different chapters. But anyways. That's not important right now. Enjoy, and, as always, the more reviews, the faster I post!!!**

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**Chapter 13: The Triumphant City**

When the first man ran from the room, it took him a moment to notice Jen leaning against the wall a foot from the doorway. Jen shot him without hesitation, her eyes hard with the many emotions of the last couple of days. The bullet hit the man an inch from the center of his chest. Jen sighed inwardly. She'd have to practice left-handed shooting when she got back to the States. Jethro would have given her a good head-slap if he'd seen that shot.

Jenny pulled her mind away from Paris and her old partner, back to the present. There were still endless gunshots coming from the room, which signified one thing: Ziva was still alive and fighting. Jen was truly worried for her friend. Ziva may be tough, but she was not invincible, and she was just as beat up as Jen was. The look of sheer exhaustion that had flickered for a moment in Ziva's eyes as she saw Jen in her cell proved that.

Suddenly, a man tried to dart from inside the room. He, like the first man, hadn't noticed Jenny. She was just about to pull the trigger when she saw who it was; the leader. She smiled slightly as she realized that Ziva had known that she would have to do this. Ziva had let him escape, knowing that Jen needed to kill this man. She waited for the man to notice her. He turned, clearly shocked to see her standing.

"_You_," was all he said before Jen pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him straight between the eyes and he fell to the ground with a thud.

A few seconds later, the emotions hit Jenny. She leaned heavily against the wall, placing her forehead on the cool concrete, trying to get her racing heart under control. A few stray tears slipped down her bruised cheeks. Jen was terrified, upset, triumphant...

She barely registered that the gunfire inside the room had stopped. Jenny was drained. She knew that it was irrational, but she was still afraid of the man who had tortured her, now merely a lifeless corpse at her feet. He had almost broken her. Under his power, Jen had almost given up, given in... All because of him. What he could do to her—_had_ done to her—terrified her beyond all else.

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As Ziva stepped into the room, she quickly assessed the situation: nine men, at least fifteen guns, all about to be focused directly on her. There were only six men—though still fifteen guns—before the terrorists realized what was going on. One of the men ran towards the door. Ziva let him go, focusing instead on the ones who were actually shooting at her. She felt a bullet graze her temple and one of her shots went wide as she ducked to avoid another. Ziva had to end this--quickly.

Two of the men had dropped before Ziva felt the searing sensation in her left shoulder. She gasped, eyes wide with pain, but quickly regained control. Now was _not _the time for emotion. She switched her gun to a one-handed grip, grimacing as she felt warm blood run down her arm.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva saw one of the terrorists—the leader, she realized with a surge of loathing-- sprint towards the door. She let him go. Jen needed to kill him. Of that, Ziva was sure.

Ziva quickly disposed of the other two men. She limped, exhausted, over to the table in the middle of the room. She picked up one of the terrorist's cell phones that was lying there and dialed the number of Mossad's unofficial headquarters in Cairo. She would need to call in a few favors to get immediate medical help, but Jen needed care _now_. After a hurried conversation in Hebrew, Ziva turned and walked towards the door.

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Jen jumped as Ziva walked out into the hallway. She hadn't even realized that it was quiet in the room, she'd been so absorbed in her own thoughts. Ziva walked over to Jen, hugging Jen's shaking body to her own. Before they knew it, both women were crying. The stood like that for some time, then turned to look at their dead enemy.

"There is another name for Cairo," began Ziva. Jen looked over at her friend. Ziva was covered in blood—fresh blood. There was some blood coming from her temple. Jen gasped quietly as she took in the state of Ziva's shoulder. It was bleeding profusely, though Ziva didn't seem to have noticed. Jen glanced at her friend's face, meeting Ziva's eyes. Ziva smiled slightly. "The Triumphant City," finished the Israeli. Jen allowed a small, pained smile to flicker across her weary features.

Jenny and Ziva stood, looking down at the dead man at their feet. He had tortured them, hurt them both in more ways than he could ever have guessed. But he had also cemented a friendship.

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**Review, review, review!!!! Look forward to the last post coming up!!!! (Either in the form of one or two chapters...)**


	14. Shalom

**Author's Note: Second last chapter. The next one should be up in a few seconds (literally). Sorry it's so short. I was going to combine it with the next chapter, but I just didn't like it that way.... so yeah. Enjoy!!! And please review!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of it. Well actually I do, because Cairo was never actually described in the show, but I don't own NCIS. So yeah. **

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**Chapter 14: Shalom**

_Five Days Later_

When they were finally released from the hospital, both Ziva and Jenny had only vague memories of the time since the emergency crews had arrived at the warehouse. They didn't want to remember—there was too much pain in the past week. Pain meds were not infallible. For days, their worlds had consisted only of pain. But then the haze had started to lift, and finally they were released from the hospital. Jen was ordered back to the States, ASAP, and Ziva was due back in Israel the same day as Jen.

It was cloudy in Cairo the day they were due to leave--cloudy and hot. It created a depressing effect, blanketing the famous "city of a thousand minarets" in a veil of dreariness and despair. Neither woman wanted to leave. Not after they had been through so much together. But people and work were waiting for them back at home. They were very aware that they might never see each other again.

At the airport, two planes were waiting to take them their separate ways. 

"Shalom, Jen," said Ziva, moving to kiss her friend's cheeks.

"Shalom," said Jenny.

Sparkling green eyes met deep, thoughtful brown ones. There were tears in both pairs. Hopes, tears, and friendship.

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	15. Epilogue: Before

**Author's Note: **_**Italics**_** signal flashbacks. This is the last chapter, so enjoy!!! And I expect reviews!!!! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

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**Epilogue: Before**

_2 Years Later—Takes place during "Kill Ari: Part 1"_

Ziva looked up as the elevator doors opened. Out walked a man—Gibbs?—and a red-haired woman whom Ziva knew well. Ziva walked to meet her friend, a smile on her face.

"Shalom, Jen," said Ziva.

_A hot, dirty cell; a red-haired woman lays half-dead in a corner, green eyes open wide in fear._

"Shalom," responded Jen.

_An Israeli woman, burned, bruised, and covered in blood. She limps into the cell, a stolen gun in her hand. Her eyes are cold, dark, and determined._

Ziva and Jen walked over to the desk where two men were standing, talking quietly.

"Special Agent Gibbs," began Jen.

_A hotel room. "I still love him," the red-haired woman sobs, burying her head in her friend's embrace._

"Ziva David, Mossad."

_An Israeli woman, flashing her Mossad ID at Cairo policemen as they secure a crime scene. The woman pulls out a phone and begins talking desperately._

"Ziva," introduced Ziva, extending a hand. "Director Shepard has spoken often of you."

_The woman speaks, her green eyes beginning to grow distant. "I think you'd like him, Ziva," she says quietly. The Israeli woman next to her smiles, eyes sad._

"Really," Gibbs responded, voice skeptical.

"Ziva and I worked anti-terrorist ops since 9/11," clarified Jen.

"_Worse even than 9/11." The woman's green eyes widen in fear and pain._

Jen and Ziva looked at each other and smiled. Their smiles showed memories; memories and friendship from a time before.

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**Author's Note: So, I was thinking. How would people like it if I continued writing these Ziva/Jen stories? After all, they probably worked together more than once in the two years since the show started. Odds are there are some great potential stories there, right? Please review and let me know if you'd like more stories!!! Review, review, review!!!!**


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